Cinder and Coral

The salt spray kisses obsidian skin,

a paradox of cool on burning core.

An island sprawls, a canvas lush and thin,

but paradise just slams against the door

of this black heart. They cast me out, you see,

from sulfur pits to shores of emerald fire.

“Repent,” they cried, “Embrace serenity!”

As if a demon could renounce desire.

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The mangoes rot, untouched beneath the trees,

their sweetness mocking cravings I can’t name.

The turquoise waves, a constant, mocking tease,

reflect a face etched deep with ancient shame.

I stalk the sands, a shadow in the sun,

a whisper lost in breezes, soft and low.

The seabirds wheel, their judgment never done,

reminding me of all I used to know.

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I build no pyres, I spill no mortal blood.

The island’s peace is something I protect,

not out of virtue, but because I could

destroy it all, and feel… less circumspect.

Is this redemption? No. It’s just despair,

refined and honed by endless, empty days.

A demon’s hell is beauty everywhere,

and knowing that he cannot share its ways.